Read Online Cowboys & Devils (Devil Aster Days Book 3) by Mitchell Olson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mitchell Olson
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his face.
“Of course you do,” said Ulric. “It says I did so right here,” he added, looking again at the wanted poster. “Well then, I’m guessing you still haven’t changed your mind about serving us for free?”
The bartender hesitated. He thought about not responding at all. He wanted to say nothing more to the corrupt, degenerate men who plagued him. But Ulric’s glare did not waver as he locked eyes with the barkeep. It was so quiet all of a sudden half of Ulric’s gang jumped when the sound of the pianist banging away on more of the keys filled the room.
The bartender nodded.
“Right, well I tried to be civil,” said Ulric. “You all saw me. I did the ‘polite’ thing and asked the barkeep to serve us all nicely. Fat lot of good that did. Being a law-abiding citizen is tough here. It’s not like it is back where I come from.”
“And where might that be?” came a voice that no one had heard yet. It was the pianist. The gang almost didn’t notice, since the pianist continued to sit with his back facing the gang.
“Looking away from a dangerous gang of outlaws is a great way to get a bullet in the back,” Ulric said to the man.
“I asked a simple question,” the pianist replied. He continued to play some soft melody. “I expect at the very least a simple answer.” His accent was not from around here. Some place foreign, Britain maybe.
Ulric shrugged. “Hell,” he said.
The music stopped.
“The truth is I’m an outlaw straight out of Hell,” said Ulric. “Want proof?”
Now every eye, including the pianist’s, was on Ulric. The spectators expected the worst: the shooting of an innocent. But Ulric’s hand did not reach for a gun. Instead, the man simply stared at his wanted poster, which he had yet to put back up on the board where it belonged. Ulric held up the poster for all to see clearly.
“Watch closely,” he said. “I’ve showed this trick to my own men a hundred times and they still can’t figure out how I do it.”
Ulric made a showy display of pretending to empty out his sleeves, but there was nothing up his sleeves. Then he displayed the wanted poster, flipping it around so that everyone could see it from multiple angles. It was just a normal piece of paper. He gripped the poster in one hand, along the bottom edge. Holding it up for all to see, and pulling his sleeve down as far as he could to prove it was no trick, the man made the impossible happen.
The paper ignited. Somehow, flames spread from his closed hand and engulfed the now-smoking paper. The women all gasped, the bartender kept his mouth shut in astonished disbelief, and Ulric’s gang erupted into even more shouts and cheers.
Though the pianist did not have a front-row seat to the event, he could tell it was only a well-practiced trick. The pianist was not one for giving in to the wild impossibilities of magic, and as he watched that wanted poster burn in the outlaw’s hand he convinced himself that it was all somehow just a carefully planned out magic trick and nothing more.
“Well,” Ulric started, “I’m through playing Mr. nice outlaw. As I stare at this burning poster, I’m reminded of why we’re here in the first place. We came for the drinks, and for whatever food you may serve us, and for the gentle touch of a lovely woman. I’ve expressed my interest in those things, and you denied my request. I think any other outlaw would have shot you in the face by now.”
Ulric turned and slapped the burning wanted poster back up on the board. He pulled a pin out of a nearby article and stuck it in the burning wanted poster instead. Immediately, the fire started spreading to the rest of the paper collected there.
The bartender reacted quickly, grabbing a pitcher of water and rushing over to douse the board before the entire bar burned down.
“Now of course I won’t be shooting you in the head because it ’s not my style,” Ulric said, losing interest in the burning board and walking
“Of course you do,” said Ulric. “It says I did so right here,” he added, looking again at the wanted poster. “Well then, I’m guessing you still haven’t changed your mind about serving us for free?”
The bartender hesitated. He thought about not responding at all. He wanted to say nothing more to the corrupt, degenerate men who plagued him. But Ulric’s glare did not waver as he locked eyes with the barkeep. It was so quiet all of a sudden half of Ulric’s gang jumped when the sound of the pianist banging away on more of the keys filled the room.
The bartender nodded.
“Right, well I tried to be civil,” said Ulric. “You all saw me. I did the ‘polite’ thing and asked the barkeep to serve us all nicely. Fat lot of good that did. Being a law-abiding citizen is tough here. It’s not like it is back where I come from.”
“And where might that be?” came a voice that no one had heard yet. It was the pianist. The gang almost didn’t notice, since the pianist continued to sit with his back facing the gang.
“Looking away from a dangerous gang of outlaws is a great way to get a bullet in the back,” Ulric said to the man.
“I asked a simple question,” the pianist replied. He continued to play some soft melody. “I expect at the very least a simple answer.” His accent was not from around here. Some place foreign, Britain maybe.
Ulric shrugged. “Hell,” he said.
The music stopped.
“The truth is I’m an outlaw straight out of Hell,” said Ulric. “Want proof?”
Now every eye, including the pianist’s, was on Ulric. The spectators expected the worst: the shooting of an innocent. But Ulric’s hand did not reach for a gun. Instead, the man simply stared at his wanted poster, which he had yet to put back up on the board where it belonged. Ulric held up the poster for all to see clearly.
“Watch closely,” he said. “I’ve showed this trick to my own men a hundred times and they still can’t figure out how I do it.”
Ulric made a showy display of pretending to empty out his sleeves, but there was nothing up his sleeves. Then he displayed the wanted poster, flipping it around so that everyone could see it from multiple angles. It was just a normal piece of paper. He gripped the poster in one hand, along the bottom edge. Holding it up for all to see, and pulling his sleeve down as far as he could to prove it was no trick, the man made the impossible happen.
The paper ignited. Somehow, flames spread from his closed hand and engulfed the now-smoking paper. The women all gasped, the bartender kept his mouth shut in astonished disbelief, and Ulric’s gang erupted into even more shouts and cheers.
Though the pianist did not have a front-row seat to the event, he could tell it was only a well-practiced trick. The pianist was not one for giving in to the wild impossibilities of magic, and as he watched that wanted poster burn in the outlaw’s hand he convinced himself that it was all somehow just a carefully planned out magic trick and nothing more.
“Well,” Ulric started, “I’m through playing Mr. nice outlaw. As I stare at this burning poster, I’m reminded of why we’re here in the first place. We came for the drinks, and for whatever food you may serve us, and for the gentle touch of a lovely woman. I’ve expressed my interest in those things, and you denied my request. I think any other outlaw would have shot you in the face by now.”
Ulric turned and slapped the burning wanted poster back up on the board. He pulled a pin out of a nearby article and stuck it in the burning wanted poster instead. Immediately, the fire started spreading to the rest of the paper collected there.
The bartender reacted quickly, grabbing a pitcher of water and rushing over to douse the board before the entire bar burned down.
“Now of course I won’t be shooting you in the head because it ’s not my style,” Ulric said, losing interest in the burning board and walking
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